Crossing Back
by Meli03
Summary: Alternate ending to "The Crossing". Coming home might be harder than first thought.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Person of Interest or any characters you may recognize - if I did, Tuesday's episode would have ended much differently!**

* * *

Two years.

It had been two long, miserable, years since the FBI had whisked away from this city and everyone she loved. Yet standing in the dwindling November sunshine outside her new home in Sunset Park, Jocelyn Carter felt more like two lifetimes had passed.

"That's $47.50 ma'am," the cab driver announced as he dropped her suitcases on the sidewalk at her feet.

Joss quickly paid the steep fare without a second thought and stepped back to take in the charming brownstone with its tall windows and flower beds full of cheery yellow pansies - a far cry from the dark, cramped studio apartment she'd been sequestered to while recovering from her 'fatal' gunshot wounds.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply and allowed herself a moment to revel in the familiar sounds and scents of late fall in New York City. Joss was tempted to pinch herself to make sure she was actually awake and not having another dream about returning to the Big Apple. But if that was the case she refused to wake up this time, she just didn't have the strength to face the disappointment again.

In the days following the shooting, Joss had been too groggy to understand what was going on, too weak to put up any kind of fight. When she was awake and more alert - eight days later according to a sympathetic nurse - it was too late.

Her family, friends, and colleagues were told she had died as a result of her injuries. They had held a touching funeral for her complete with military honors and a closed - and obviously empty - casket. Joss had not been able to bring herself to watch any of the footage from the service during that first year.

No one would tell her anything beyond the basic need to know information; but thanks to a loose-lipped rookie agent, she learned that SAIC Moss - who was still heading-up the federal investigation into HR - had made the decision to take her into protective custody the night Simmons shot her. The details were sketchy even years later, but somehow his cohorts at the Bureau's New York office had managed to swoop in and quietly transfer her to a private hospital across town without anyone being the wiser.

Once she was medically cleared for travel Joss had been relocated across the country to a quiet neighborhood in suburban Phoenix where she was given a new name, and a new job as a civilian secretary for the nearby Glendale police department. When she wasn't typing up arrest reports or ordering office supplies, her FBI handlers were prepping her to become the government's star witness against HR's leaders and members.

She'd had little choice in the matter - at least that's what she told herself when she felt like a coward for hiding. Joss knew she could have forfeited the FBI's protection and walked away at any time; but with HR still intact and willing to do anything to silence her, she had to stay the course. She couldn't take a chance that next time they tried to kill her Taylor, her mom, or an innocent bystander might be hurt instead. Hell she had never even been able to find out how badly John had been hurt that night.

The fact that the danger to her life and those she loved was very real didn't make her feel any better about deceiving her family, or most importantly about leaving Taylor behind.

The lead agent on her case, Benjamin Falcon, repeatedly tried to put her at ease by assuring her she could go home as soon as HR was dismantled and she testified at the corruption trials in DC. Joss had readily agreed, willing to do anything that would get her back to her baby boy, back to what she and John had started with that kiss in the morgue.

When reports of Quinn's death reached her, Joss had been elated. She had only been in Arizona four days and according to Agent Falcon, Quinn's body was found a few days after she had been gunned down. She had thought her return to New York City was imminent at that point, but Joss quickly found out that the death of HR s boss didn't mean her all expenses paid vacation was over.

In fact, that was only the beginning.

The FBI was determined that Donnelly's work - and hers - would not be in vain, which meant she was remanded to their witness protection program until each and every member was jailed…or dead. The process had been painstakingly slow, taking over a year and a half.

From the little info she had wrangled out of Falcon, the investigation had proceeded faster than anticipated thanks in large part to an unseen source that provided them with a wealth of evidence and led their agents directly to the homes of members all over the city.

Finch. She had known right away it was Harold, and the gesture was part of what kept her going during the last two years. If he could cozy up the with the FBI - digitally at least - and risk getting caught, she could do her part and make sure the bastards were dealt with once and for all.

John's part in it all left her feeling…

A sharp breeze whipped her scarf across her face, shaking her from the dreary memories. She clutched her coat tighter to her and prayed it wouldn't take long to re-acclimate to the biting NY winters after her time away in the desert heat.

Joss glanced up and down the block, surveying her surroundings out of habit; but only saw the cab driver speed away on the hunt for another passenger. With a sigh she bent to pick up her worn suitcases and climbed the front steps, a huge smile plastered across her face despite the apprehension and exhilaration chasing around in her belly.

Jocelyn Carter was _finally_ home.

* * *

Harold Finch watched his friend walk across the deserted playground after saving their latest number from would-be assassins. His worry increased with each angry step John put between them.

John had barely spoken five words over the last three days, doing what was necessary for his job but little else. By comparison Ms. Shaw seem like Chatty Cathy.

Finch knew the reason for the man's surliness. Hell they were all a little on edge with the second anniversary of Joss' murder only days away. Mr. Reese hadn't been the same since that harrowing night two years ago, but honestly none of them were.

Joss' death had changed the whole team, and he couldn't say with any degree of certainty that they had started to recover from it. Detective Carter, their heart, had been brutally ripped away leaving them all shattered and numb.

Fusco's grief drove him to keep longer hours at the office than ever before. He dug in to each new case as if he were on a mission to live up to his partner's standards, as though he was determined to make her proud of him. Lionel had stepped up and stood shoulder to shoulder with John to take out every HR member until no one was left standing.

Ms. Shaw, an iceberg personified, had shed quiet tears throughout Joss' entire memorial service and even graciously accepted the handkerchief he offered midway through. The two women had quickly formed a bond during the Ian Murphy case. Harold was certain their mutual respect would have grown in to a lasting friendship had Joss' life not been cut short.

Or maybe it had and that's why he often found her at Sarah Lawrence's home in Newburgh, NY watching over Joss' mother and son if Mr. Reese wasn't already there.

John had experienced the most drastic changes from her death. He'd stopped eating, sleeping, shaving, and working the numbers that continued to pour in. Instead he had relentlessly stalked Patrick Simmons and Alonzo Quinn before dispensing his own unique brand of justice for Joss' murder.

The men's gruesome deaths still caused Harold to shudder when he allowed himself to think about it. John had gotten quite inventive with his torture techniques and showed no mercy to the men who had murdered his partner. It might make him a terrible person, but Finch couldn't find it in himself to feel any remorse over either man's ugly demise.

After that John divided his time between hunting down every last officer and civilian on HR's payroll and spending time with Sarah and Taylor. When he wasn't occupied with either of those pursuits, he was busy emptying out the liquor store's shelves at an alarming rate. Harold was convinced that the only thing keeping his employee tied to this earth was the promise Joss managed to wrest from him before she died in his arms.

Four months ago the last HR holdout was found dead in almost the exact spot where the whole ugly mess had started, and the FBI officially closed out its investigation into the matter. One might call that poetic justice, but in the end it didn't seem to have brought about the sense of satisfaction John was seeking.

Two more months passed before John had shown up at the library to report back to work, not exactly his old clean-shaven self, but his beard and hair were neatly trimmed. The black dress shirt underneath the black suit gave him an edgier look, especially when combined with clear blue eyes that were devoid of any of the humor and compassion that was there before.

Time was a great healer - or so he hoped - but Harold was worried about his friend. A charged tension was in the air, leaving him with the sense that something big was on the horizon, a change that had nothing to do with the upcoming shift in seasons.

Finch gripped Bear's leash tightly and limped back towards the library looking forward to a few hours of peace and quiet.

Those plans were put on hold when the relatively calm evening was disrupted by the clanging of a payphone on the corner. He sighed heavily and stopped to answer as he always did, jotting down the string of numbers before continuing on his way.

He decided to let Detective Fusco or Ms. Shaw handle the initial surveillance on this one. John could use a night off in spite of the protests he would surely raise if he knew he was being sidelined.

Back at the library Finch dumped dry food into Bear's bowl before settling down to plug the data in to his laptop…then jerked back in his chair in shock.

No, that wasn't right, it couldn't be. He ran the data again and again and again…and again, but the results were the same each time.

Bear's plaintive whine and insistent nudges against his thigh couldn't penetrate the fog stealing over him. Even with tears obscuring his view, Harold continued to stare in disbelief at the photograph of their newest number.

Jocelyn Carter.

* * *

**There are so many wonderful stories/rewrites out there that deal with "The Crossing", I can't decide which is my favorite. I know this idea isn't new, and as much as I wish something like this would happen on the show - or anything really to fix what happened - I don't hold out too much hope that it will. This idea stuck with me after I watched a few clips of the episode and I've got a general idea of how the story will unfold; but let me know if it's worth continuing. Reviews, comments, or suggestions are always welcome! Thanks! Meli :-D**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Person of Interest or any characters you may recognize.**

* * *

The waiting, Joss decided, would be what finally killed her.

Not the adventures John and Harold dragged her into, her dogged pursuit of HR, or the bullet that narrowly missed her heart when it slammed into her chest; but something as harmless as the clock hanging on her kitchen wall.

Two years of waiting had boiled down to little more than two hours. Two measly hours until she could hop in the car and drive out to Newburgh. Two hours left before she could melt into her mama's arms and hug her baby until he begged her to let go.

Thanks to Agent Falcon, who had insisted on seeing her off at the airport that morning, Joss had learned that her MIT freshman was flying home from school tonight for Thanksgiving break. Her mom was probably already driving in to the city to pick Taylor up, so it would be late when they got back.

She just needed to keep busy for a little while longer, then she could head out to surprise them...but that was becoming more impossible with each loud tick of the grandfather clock down the hall.

Since arriving home earlier that afternoon, Joss had tried her best to wait patiently. She had unpacked the few belongings she brought with her from the safe house in Phoenix, but that took all of thirty minutes so she shifted her focus to the living room where she rearranged the furniture - twice - before putting everything back in its original place. From there she had wandered to the kitchen to organize the pantry, scrub the already spotless floor, and prepare a meal she was too nervous to eat.

Now Joss found herself in the bathroom staring at her reflection in the foggy mirror, water from her shower dripping down her limbs to the ivy green bath mat. Her eyes flickered over her naked body, automatically finding the slash of puckered skin barely an inch from her heart - the only lasting physical effect from Simmons's bullet.

"_Joss stay with me. Please…just stay with me."_

Her hand reached up to trace the small scar as John's tearful pleas rang in her ears. How would he react to seeing her again? Would he be furious? Ecstatic? Indifferent?

The uncertainty of it all tied her stomach in painful knots that no amount of reassurance could undo. Joss realized she couldn't stay in New York and hide from him forever; but that was a reunion that would have to wait until after she saw her little dude…and figured out a way to explain the last two years.

Joss shoved a strand of damp hair behind her ear and walked out to the bedroom to pull on a black cowl neck sweater and a pair of dark jeans. She didn't bother putting on any make-up, but did take the time to dry and straighten her hair before it decided to do its own embarrassing thing.

Her thick shoulder-length locks were long gone, chopped off by an insensitive FBI agent the night before she left New York. Joss was woman enough to admit that a few of the tears she'd shed between LaGuardia and Phoenix's Sky Harbor had been over that ugly pixie cut that she had never gotten used to.

Thank God Agent Falcon hadn't insisted she keep it that short. He'd allowed her to grow her hair out some, just not to its previous length. So for now it was short, reaching only an inch or two below her jaw line with a chunk of bangs that swooped over the right side of her forehead.

As silly as it sounded, having control over something inconsequential like the length of her hair brought a smile to her lips - at least it did until she glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand.

6:10 p.m.

Damn.

She tugged on her sturdy black boots and made her way to the kitchen. The quick shower and change of clothes had helped her relax enough to drag a high-backed stool up to the small island with pen and paper…and the pan of peanut butter brownies she'd made for dessert. Chocolate, after all, could make almost any wait bearable.

Joss scooped a large helping onto her plate then tapped her pen against the granite countertop to draw her focus back to the menu she was planning for Thanksgiving dinner next week. There was so much to be thankful for and she was more than ready to celebrate; but she couldn't concentrate on turkey and pumpkin pie. Not when her mind kept drifting Taylor and what his response might be to the news that she was still alive. She had never pictured him as anything other than happy, but now...

Out of habit Joss fiddled with the delicate silver bracelet on her wrist in an effort to calm her racing thoughts. That last tangible link to John had saved her sanity more times than she could count over the last two years, but tonight it wasn't enough.

She had been wearing it the night Simmons shot her, and the FBI had quietly packed it away in an evidence bag with the rest of her belongings while she was in surgery. When her head had finally cleared from the overload of painkillers, she'd panicked thinking it was lost forever.

Kim, her nurse at that time, had been only too happy to help get it back for her after Joss fed her a story of half-truths about a tall, dark, handsome man and lost love. She managed to keep the bracelet hidden from her handlers long enough to smuggle it into witness protection with her.

Joss blinked away the threatening tears and looked down at her list, determined not to pick up her phone and check the time again. Her alarm was set along with two backups…but what if the volume wasn't turned up loud enough for her to hear it, or what if she set them all for a.m. instead of p.m.?

It wouldn't hurt to double-check one last time. After all, how many chances did a woman get to come back from the dead?

She gave in to temptation and tossed her pen aside to grab her cell phone off its charger at the end of the island. Joss growled low in her throat when the display lit up.

6:15 p.m.

"Seriously? Is this thing broken?" she yelled at the empty town home. Joss slapped the countertop in frustration and stood so quickly she knocked over the bar stool she was sitting on.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, picking up her chair. "I should just leave now."

The trip itself would take a little over an hour and a half with all the back roads she planned on taking, so the extra time would give her the opportunity to rehearse the speech she planned to give her mom and Taylor.

Mind made up Joss grabbed her jacket and the keys to the small SUV Agent Falcon had thoughtfully arranged for her, and stomped to the front door where she checked her appearance one last time in a decorative mirror. She looked scared, no question about that, but there was also a calmness about her, a happiness that refused to hide behind the weariness and anxiety.

"_Everything is going to workout just fine," _she counseled herself as she tugged a black knit beret over her short hair and locked her front door.

Traffic was surprisingly light as Joss slipped the SUV off the main road and wound her way through the city's side streets and alleyways - because heaven help her if John, Harold, or their source found out she was alive and in New York before she was able to tell them herself.

Thirty minutes later she was well outside the city limits and driving along a stretch of county roads that curved back through the countryside where thankfully no cameras were posted. The lack of street lights and the natural darkness of the late fall evening provided her with all the cover she would need to make it to her mom's house unnoticed.

For a while she rode in silence, but the quiet gave her time to think - too much time. Instead of concentrating on the warm welcome she would receive, Joss was picturing what could go wrong, all the things that had likely changed since this whole nightmare started.

Her homecoming wasn't going to be easy, but would Taylor - or her mom, Fusco, Finch, Shaw, or John - be so angry over the lies that were told, the grief they needlessly went through, that they would refuse to see her? The possibility of rejection was very real and very scary.

Hell, she couldn't keep this up for the next hour or she would lose her nerve and turn the car around.

Joss blew out a frazzled breath and reached for the radio knob, skipping over the NPR and classical stations to pause on a country channel - how could she not after her time out West - but the song about heartache and loss was hitting too close to home. With tears gathering she scrolled through the dial again until she stumbled across a classic rock station. Joss shifted to stretch the muscles in her back, and tapped her palms on the steering wheel to Joan Jett's _'I Love Rock N Roll'_.

The bracelet on her left wrist jangled slightly with each beat, involuntarily calling to mind memories of that night at John's loft. She would have fallen in love with him right then and there if she wasn't already head over heels for the man.

**September 2013**

_Once the last dish was washed, dried and put away, Joss allowed John to lace his fingers through hers and lead her to the leather sofa in the living room. _

"_You know you didn't have to help me clean up Carter, this is your birthday dinner after all."_

_She tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him down on the cushion next to her. "I know, but I enjoyed it" Only John Reese could make scrubbing a sink full of pots and pans so inviting. _

"L_ike you said, it's _my_ birthday so I can do whatever I want." Joss smiled up at him through her lashes and bumped his shoulder with hers. "And I wanted to show you how much I appreciated all the trouble you went to tonight to surprise me."_

"_I would hardly call it trouble Joss; but the surprise isn't over yet." John waggled his brows at her, releasing a swarm of butterflies inside her at the thought of what else he might have in store for her._

"_Better be careful John or I might just get used to all this special treatment and demand it more often."_

"_Would that be such a bad thing?" Joss swore she heard him murmur; but he turned at that moment to open a drawer in the small side table so she couldn't be sure. _

_When he faced her again John was holding a slender box wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a curling gold ribbon. __He presented it to her with a shy "Happy birthday Joss" that was heartfelt and endearing._

_She was smiling so hard the muscles in her cheeks hurt as she carefully unfolded the paper, working slowly to tear it as little as possible. Her efforts earned her a hearty laugh from John who urged her to rip the paper off; but she was determined to save what she could. It would be one more memory of this special night she could savor later when she was alone in her apartment._

_Joss gasped in delight when the lid creaked open to reveal an elegant silver infinity bracelet, each sideways figure eight linked to another by a diamond speckled heart. _

_One hand lifted to her mouth to cover her wobbly smile, her treasured wrapping paper forgotten for a moment to flutter to the floor and under the coffee table._

"_It's gorgeous," she breathed with tears blurring her vision._

"_One of the reasons I thought of you when I saw it," John's voice dipped roughly._

_Joss turned the bracelet in her hand and a tiny inscription on a heart link near the clasp caught her attention. It was simple yet so meaningful to her: Thank you, J._

"_John -" she couldn't say more. This gift touched a place in her that was slowly coming back to life. His words stirred her heart, yet it was what he left unsaid that confirmed she wasn't alone in her feelings, that he too was aware of their deep connection, and felt 'whatever this is'. _

_John seemed to sense her emotional overload and pulled her across the couch cushion to gather her to him in a tight hug._

"_Me too Joss," he whispered against her hair. "Me too."_

**Present**

Joss shook her head to clear out the memory and focus on the road in front of her. She'd had plenty of time to look back and remember. Now was about moving forward and hopefully reconnecting with the people she had been forced to leave behind.

She just prayed they could find it in their hearts to forgive her someday.

Forty-five minutes later she switched off the headlights and slowly drove off the packed dirt road to park in the grass at the top of a rise, a hundred yards, give or take, from the house. The stand of oak trees and a thick cloud cover blocking most of the moon's light would be enough to hide the car's presence from anyone driving by or pulling in to the driveway.

Joss released a nervous sigh as she cut the engine and pulled her coat tighter around her, immediately missing the heater's warmth. At great risk to her blood pressure, she chanced a quick glance at her phone, the clock - now her enemy - telling her she had at least an hour to go before Taylor or her mom might possibly be home.

She dropped it into the cup holder and settled back against the lightly cushioned seat to take in her childhood home. The sunny yellow two-story farmhouse with its gabled peaks and wide wrap around porch stood empty and silent in the cold November night. The two large red maples that framed the sides swayed with each gust of north wind, casting long shadows in the porch light's friendly glow.

Why did she suddenly feel like she was light-years from home when she was only a few feet away?

Acting solely on impulse, Joss pocketed the keys and threw her door open to hop out of the car and pick her way across the dark yard. The clouds obscured what little light she might have used to see by, but she didn't need it. Even after years away she knew the path by heart and - thanks in part to a few late night parties in high school that required sneaking out of the house - could have walked it blindfolded if she had to.

She hadn't completely figured out the details of her plan, but waiting inside a warm house sounded better than waiting outside in a freezing car. But would the shock of turning on the lights to find her sitting in the living room be too much?

Joss stood beside a rock edged flower bed for all of thirty seconds before she decided that finding her on the couch couldn't be any more traumatic than finding her on their doorstep. She climbed the broad steps of the back porch and squatted down to dig in a frog shaped planter for the spare key.

Her fingers had just touched cold metal when headlights slashed through the darkness, highlighting a portion of siding directly above her head before the car turned towards the detached garage on the other side of the house.

They were home early!

Panic and impatience collided and threatened to cripple her when she stood. Joss fell back against the door jamb and closed her eyes to say a quick prayer. Her palms broke out in a sweat as she listened to doors slam and feet trudge up the steps, across the porch's wooden planks.

Where she was freezing only moments ago, Joss was now burning up. Nausea rippled through her middle, and each of her senses were on full alert, picking up on the smallest nuances - a key scraping the lock just before rusty hinges squeaked open, the hint of snow in the breeze that swept past her flushed cheek, traces of her mama's delicate perfume along with another cologne that had her brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Come on in," Sarah Lawrence's gentle southern accent washed over Joss, bringing on a fresh round of tears. "I'll make us some coffee."

The screen door slammed shut followed by the muffled thump of the wooden front door behind it. Soft light from the living room and kitchen spilled out of the first story windows to create a cozy glow.

This was it. It was finally time, but she was stuck in a horrible limbo. One part of her wanted to waltz through the door and shout _'surprise!'_; but another not-so-small part of her wanted to sprint back to her car and hide, terrified of the fallout that might follow her sudden reappearance.

'_Breathe Joss, breathe,_' she coached herself. Joss took in several deep gulps of cold air to center herself and silently backed towards the railing and the shadows, careful to avoid the boards she knew would creak and give away her presence.

Step by cautious step she inched along the edge of the porch until she reached the first window in a row of three that looked in on the spacious living room -

"_Taylor_." She couldn't hold in the startled whisper, not when her baby boy was sitting on the couch only a few feet away, his arm hugging an overstuffed throw pillow to his side.

Oh God, her little man was a grown man now. He looked taller, stronger, more like his father with his broad shoulders and that damn stubborn set to his chin. Her arms felt heavy, strangely itchy with a need to hold him tight before her chance was taken away.

Joss swiped angrily at the tears coursing down her cheeks, the ones that reduced her son to a blurry mess; but they wouldn't stop coming. Despair set her feet in motion, directing her to the front door, when she caught sight of someone else entering the living room.

John.

She froze mid-stride, the hand that flew up to her mouth was not quick enough to catch her surprised yelp.

"_No! Not now_," was her only coherent thought. No matter how desperately wanted to see him again, she wasn't ready to face him now. Tonight was about Taylor, her mom. John wasn't supposed to be there.

What would she do if he was angry, if he shut her out and refused to listen to her side of the story?

Joss rested against the wooden post at her back to soak in the sight of him, relieved to find John alive and relatively healthy even if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This might not be what she had planned, but she wasn't going to let this unexpected opportunity slip by.

The man was still too handsome for his own good, but he looked…rugged, wild…and as worn down and weary as she felt. He was as tall and intimidating as ever; but leaner now, more angular. His trademark black overcoat and suit looked even darker with the crisp black dress shirt underneath.

She wrinkled her nose at the full beard John was sporting. Gone was the clean-shaven look she loved, the one that had fueled her lonely fantasies during those long nights out in the desert.

Her inspection was interrupted when her mom bustled in at that moment carrying a tray laden with coffee, sandwiches, and slabs of chocolate cake. Joss' glance darted between her mom and John, trying to keep both in her sights, but eventually her gaze was drawn back to him.

After thousands of miles and years apart she couldn't tear herself away, even when her instincts were warning her to move. Joss ignored the sharp prickles racing up her spine to watch as a small but warm smile graced John's face when Taylor spoke to him.

The smirk was brief but encouraging, and it had her pulse picking up speed. Her John was still there, buried, but still there. She raised her left hand to massage the ache forming in her temple, but froze when John's sharp gaze lifted to the window. Even with the sheer curtain between them Joss could see the spark of interest lighting his cold blue eyes.

"_Impossible," _she told herself. John couldn't see her. She was cloaked in the porch's deep shadows and practically invisible in her dark clothing. There was nothing to give her away, yet something had alerted John...it was then Joss noticed a twinkling flash of light glittering off her wrist.

Her bracelet! The damn diamonds were catching the light from the end table lamps to create a beacon that was giving away her position.

Joss saw John bolt for the front door a split second before she pushed off the post and decided to make a run for it. She stumbled over a rocking chair and sent it crashing in to several empty terracotta pots before vaulting over the railing. The impact with frozen earth jarred her, but the heavy thud of footsteps pounding across the porch was all the motivation she needed to keep going.

She sprinted around the tire swing hanging from the maple's lower branches, fumbling through her coat's pocket for the car keys. There was no need to look back and see if he was gaining. Joss could hear the leaves and twigs crunching under John's feet even over the roar in her ears. She estimated he was several yards behind her, but she could make it if she didn't slow down -

Her right foot sank awkwardly into a shallow depression in the ground that had been easy to miss in the darkness. Both hands shot out to break her fall, but somehow she managed to right herself after a few lunging steps forward. Joss clenched her teeth against the sudden throbbing in her ankle and continued up the hill.

The scarred skin over her wound stretched painfully with each lungful of cold, stinging air, and she could feel the muscles in her calves begin to burn. John's long legs would overtake her in a flash if she didn't pick up the pace; but the harder she pushed herself, the wider the cramp in her chest seemed to spread.

"God please…" Joss panted as she pressed on up the steepest part of the incline. Laughter bubbled out uncontrollably when the fence line and her car came into view. John might have longer legs, but she had stubbornness and determination on her side.

In a matter of seconds she had heaved herself over the white posts and yanked open the driver side door. Behind her she could hear John scrambling up the rise and her shaking hands bobbled the keys, causing them to fall between the center console and the driver's seat.

"Come on!" Joss yelled in frustration. Her tears made it harder to find them, but her fingers grazed the key's rough edges just as she saw John in her rearview mirror leaping over the fence.

After two unsuccessful attempts, Joss finally jammed the keys in and cranked the engine to life. The tires churned up a small cloud of dust as she peeled out on the dirt road and sped off in to the dark countryside, instinctively ducking down in her seat as shots rang out behind her.

* * *

John felt the change as soon as his foot hit the bottom step of the porch, Taylor's suitcases in hand.

He stood silently off to the side and scanned the darkened yard for threats as Sarah Lawrence unlocked her front door. This wasn't a response to danger though, it was more like his body was alerting him to something - someone - nearby.

That he sensed anything at all was nothing short of miraculous. For almost two years he had been operating solely on autopilot, numb and uncaring about anything except his mission to destroy HR.

Nothing had been the same since he'd lost her.

John dismissed his bleak thoughts and followed Taylor and his grandmother inside; but his tingling instincts wouldn't be so easily pushed aside. He swore he could smell hints of her perfume in the air tonight - and damn if it wasn't one of the better hallucinations he'd had lately.

It was this place, being with her mother and son, in the house where she grew up. That's what was kicking up these memories. They inundated him every time he came out for a visit - hell they were with him every moment of the day; but tonight it felt like Joss was actually there with him.

Perhaps he was finally starting to accept that she was gone.

The thought caused bile to rise in the back of his throat. He couldn't let go, not yet. Some days were easier than others, and he was starting to settle into a 'normal' routine; but the reality of it all was still too difficult to bear. If he finally admitted that Joss wasn't coming back he might as well crawl back in to his bottle of Jack Daniels and put that bullet he'd saved to good use. There was a reason he'd kept it so long after Jessica's death.

The damn thing was sitting on his coffee table mocking him, waiting until he'd decided he'd had enough living without her.

There were nights he'd come close to slamming it into the chamber and putting an end to the pain permanently. Then he could be reunited with her in heaven…but with his luck he'd only get to spend a few minutes with her before he was sent in the other direction.

Besides he had promised Joss he would look after Taylor and he couldn't let her down, not after she gave her life to save his.

So when he wasn't dismantling HR's empire or drowning his sorrows, he was hanging out with Taylor and helping him with homework, problems at school, offering him a shoulder to lean on.

They talked about Joss occasionally, but John knew there was a lot the boy kept bottled up inside. His mother's death had left Taylor with heavy burdens of anger and fear. John was concerned but wouldn't force him to open up. Instead he made sure the young man knew he was there for him when he was ready to talk - even if it would end up tearing him apart.

John soundlessly walked through the rest of the rooms on the first floor trying to ease the knotted muscles across his shoulders.

"Take your coat off and stay a while John. I've got coffee and sandwiches, and my black forest cake that you're so fond of," Sarah called our from the kitchen just as he stepped back in to the living room.

"Please don't go to any trouble ma'am."

"It's no trouble at all, now sit," Sarah commanded. She ignored his protests and hurried in with a tray loaded down with enough coffee and food to feed ten people. His stomach churned restlessly at the thought of eating even one bite of it, delicious or not.

Joss' ghost was proving to be too overwhelming and he was ready to make his excuses. Another polite refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but Taylor's voice stopped him.

"You know it's as pointless to argue with grandma as it was with mom, so you'd better stay John." A slight smile twisted Taylor's lips and John found himself grinning back if only for a second.

He moved to take a seat in the recliner across from Taylor but a tiny flicker in the window caught his eye.

Something - no someone - was out there. At first he only saw darkness, but as his eyes adjusted he could make out a faint outline leaning against the railing in the shadows…there it was again. Another flash of sparkling light roused his protective instincts and he rounded the sofa determined to catch the intruder before he got away.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Taylor jump up to follow. "Stay here," he warned.

By the time he made it out the front door the prowler was already on the move. John raced past the overturned furniture and broken pottery shards to leap over the porch banister in pursuit.

Was this HR somehow? Every last member was either dead or in jail, he'd personally made sure of that; but who else would possibly come after Sarah or Taylor?

The shadowy figure was more fleet-footed than he had anticipated, and the distance between them was widening rapidly. John zigzagged around the large maple and realized belatedly that the man ahead of him was digging in his pocket for something, most likely a weapon.

Reese drew his own from the back of his waistband and thumbed off the safety.

A soft, almost feminine grunt on the trail ahead rang out seconds before he saw the man - or was it a woman - stumble several feet before continuing up the knoll. A grim smirk bent his lips as he realized his prey was limping - a weakness he planned on using to his advantage.

John tapped his earpiece, still adjusting to having it there again after only a few months back on the job. "Finch."

"Mr. Reese. Is everything alright?" Harold sounded oddly panicked even though he hadn't briefed him on the situation yet. Did he already know? Had the machine given him Sarah or Taylor's number tonight?

"Someone was watching Sarah's home." And that someone had just cleared the property's fence line.

"Who?" Finch's voice squeaked in alarm.

"Not sure, but I'm about to find out." John bit back a curse when he heard a car door slam at the top of the hill and clambered up the remaining few yards.

He reached the road in time to see the vehicle, a mid-sized black SUV, sitting idle. From his vantage point the driver appeared to be alone, but it was too dark and the angle all wrong to get a clear view of his face. .

"The car has New York plates, license number Romeo, Lima 3 -" John squinted to make out the rest through the swirl of dirt and gravel the tires were kicking up as the car lurched forward.

He fired several shots at the tires while giving chase, but it was too late. The driver hit the gas and sped off down the unpaved road.

"John! What's happening?"

Finch's panicked questions didn't register until he came to a stop in the middle of the road panting and watching the glow of red tail lights disappear on the horizon.

"John?"

"The bastard got away Harold, that's what happened." He shoved his SIG back in to his waistband. "Run the partial license plate and send Shaw out here to relive me. We aren't taking any new numbers until this threat is dealt with."

"Absolutely Mr. Reese."

John raked a hand across his scalp with a groan then climbed over the fence to head back to the house and check on Taylor and Sarah. They likely had questions for him, but he sure as hell didn't have any answers.

A particularly strong shaft of moonlight broke through the clouds and lit up the ground around him as he approached the bottom of the hill. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed it, but the glimmer of brightness in the grasses around the red maple snagged his attention.

Curious, Reese knelt and scooped up the object to study it more closely in the dim glow. His mind short circuited when he realized what he was holding, and he would have dropped it had it not been for the paralyzing dismay tightening every muscle in his body.

John frantically flipped the bracelet over searching for the inscription that shouldn't be there, couldn't possibly be there, yet…'_Thank you, __J'._

His head whipped back towards the road in wide-eyed disbelief, heart hammering violently against his ribs.

"Joss?"

* * *

**Looks like I'll be continuing this :-) Thank you all for taking the time to review and favorite/follow this story, I just can't say it enough, and the encouragement means so much! Let me know of course if you have any suggestions or ideas for me, or if there's anything I need to work on. I'm kind of torn about how this chapter came out but I didn't want to make y'all wait any longer. And don't worry, this won't be a long drawn out game of cat and mouse, John will catch up to Joss soon...just have to figure out how that's going to happen lol. Also I'm ignoring the fact that Taylor was staying with his dad instead of his grandma on the show. Paul Carter might come in to play later in the story, still not sure if he would fit in or not. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'm off to edit/re-work chapter 10 of "The Things We Say" ;-) Meli**


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